Love lasts forever
by Anatomy Melancholia
Summary: Mick and Beth cope with an illness they cannot control - one that changes their lives permanently.


Disclaimer: WB owns 'Moonlight.' I make no money off this.

AN: I've tried to research the medical condition used in this story, but unfortunately the symptoms vary so much depending on the specifics of the injury and the individual that it was difficult to find a case study to use as a prototype. If you find that I've made mistakes, please do let me know.

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From the window, Beth watched him walk towards the building - hand raised against the sun, he was wearing blue again. He said he wore it because it matched her eyes, and he said it in that soft, gentle voice that reminded her of days spent smelling of sex.

The nurse came up softly behind her. "He's here," she said, smiling at the look on Beth's face. "Like clockwork."

"Come on," Nurse continued, releasing the brakes on the wheelchair. "Let's go meet Mick."

He was already at reception when they came down the hall. Allie, behind the desk, was sniffing an enormous bunch of flowers as he signed in. She handed them back as he straightened, nodding towards Beth.

"Hi gorgeous," Mick said, striding forward.

Beth gurgled lightly, arms reaching out towards him. "Yeah, these are for you," he laughed, angling the bouquet so that she could sniff it for a moment. "Thank you," she whispered as she sat back.

He handed the flowers to the nurse standing behind the chair with a smile. "Hi, Charis. Thanks."

"Oh you're welcome, Mr St John." She waved a hand lightly in dismissal, then leaned her head to the side speculatively. "You look different."

Beth made a short, strangled noise as she stared up at him, hands scrabbling on the arms of her chair.

"Hey." Mick knelt beside her. "It's not that bad, is it?" he teased, running a hand through his hair.

"You- you cut your hair," Beth said, reached out to pull gently at a short, brown curl. She stretched it out, eyes tearing up as it straightened almost instantly. Then her face changed and she tugged furiously at his scalp.

Mick reached up to cover her hand with his, worry creasing his face. "Beth!"

"Beth," the nurse soothed, reaching out to ease her hand away, "let go. Come on, now. It's just a hair cut. I think he looks nice, don't you?" She smiled at Mick and found no reaction. Beth was snuffling quietly, one hand pressed against her eyes. "Let's take Beth to her visiting room, shall we?"

Charis' calm shook Mick out of himself. "I'll drive," he offered, forcing a smile, moving behind the wheelchair. As they went through the corridors he smelled the disinfectant and the underlying scent of incontinence; the golden head in front of him was still bowed and he could smell Beth's tears mixed with it all. Only Charis was even-keeled, barely touched as she strode past open doors and green-tinted rooms.

Charis held the door open for them and left with an admonition to Mick and Beth to stay calm while she found a vase and some water.

"She doesn't know," Mick whispered loudly as he sank into a chair beside Beth, "that I fell in love with you because you tried to seduce me hopped up on Black Crystal."

"You cut your hair," Beth said bleakly, looking up from under her lashes.

"Yes." Mick reached out to cup her face. "Beth. No, look at me, Beth. I'm sorry. I didn't realize it would upset you. I just- I'm sorry."

Beth shook her head in frustration, her hands smacking against the padded arms as words escaped her. "Don't be," she said finally.

Mick looked at her for a second. "Can you say that again, Beth? I didn't catch it," he said carefully.

"Donnnn'tt bbee," she repeated, stressing the words so that he would catch the inflections of her speech.

He smiled at her in relief. "Come here." And he lifted her into his lap. "That's better." Mick felt her slender fingers creep up his back and bury themselves in his hair; he smiled against her neck and breathed in the scent of her skin. "I missed you so much," he said thickly.

She coughed into his hair, and muttered a response - garbled words that he didn't understand so he made the words up from memory. That short sqawk, that reminded him of 'Where's my shirt?' when she was late for work, or 'I don't know how to do this.' The longer sigh, that was her morning-after glow or the way she said 'I found my Guardian angel.' That sob was loss and her changing world.

"Josef says hi, by the way." Mick said, when he had himself under control again. He kept the levity in his voice; pushed the bitterness aside for the moment. Josef's refusal to see Beth shouldn't have hurt but it did. 'She doesn't want to see me," he'd said quietly. 'Tell her I said hi' was the closest Josef would get to her now.

"Hi back," Beth said, shifting slightly in his lap.

This close, Mick could pretend the accident had never happened. Her body sounded the same - the blood still [i]whooshing[/i] through arteries and veins, her heart in a steady rhythm. The bright blonde hair was shorter, growing back to its former length, but she was still his Beth. And if she didn't stop shifting-

"Whoa," he said softly, grabbing her hips to still them. "Uh, if you don't stop, Charis is going to have enough footage to make us both internet sensations." Her infectious giggle – now seldom heard – was the most beautiful sound of the last two weeks.

"You OK?" he asked when she shifted again slightly. Beth nodded furiously but Mick hadn't missed the way she caught her breath as the injured muscles twitched. "Let's get you back on stable ground," he joked, moving her carefully into the wheelchair. He fussed with the hem of her skirt for a moment before he sat down, their chairs flush against each other and his arm circling her shoulders.

"Tell me," Beth said, pulling away from him slightly. "Job? Home?"

He knew the cues well, answering with gusto and recounting as many details as he could remember. He whispered notes about his cases into her ear, first making a show of looking around the empty room to check for eavesdroppers right.

Beth watched his face, one hand idly stroking his cheek. When he came and sat with her she could pretend the accident had never happened. She stopped him occasionally when the details jumbled together and made no sense.

"...Talbot came to see me the other day," Mick said lazily. Her hand was warm against his cheek and the yellow walls of the room were reflecting the heavy afternoon rays of the sun. The armchair he sat in was set against the far wall, deep in shadow. He felt contentment steal over him, loosening his tongue. "He says he'd like to come see you too." Beth stiffened against his arm, the single word, "No," falling like a rock on his fantasy.

"There's nothing to be ashamed of," he told her fiercely. "Baby, it's not-"

"No," she repeated, louder this time. "No no no." And she began to struggle.

"OK, OK." Mick tightened his hold on her instinctively, his voice dropping to a soothing purr. "No, I promise he won't come."

She said, "No," a few more times as she watched the shadows on the far wall.

"I shouldn't have asked," Mick said after a minute.

Beth arched against the hand stroking her hair. "Mmmmm."

He laughed. "You still like that. You liked that when you were a little girl too."

"Yes."

"The doctor says you're making great progress in physiotherapy. He says you'll be up and out of that chair in no time."

Beth snorted and began to tell him about her days at the Centre, painstakingly.

After a while, the words dried up. "-Dr. Levan say...says numbers are better. Getting better." She shrugged. "Tired."

"Did I ever tell you the time I was working the ward with a kid who'd just survived the shelling at the Losheim Gap? He came in and flinched at every single thing that happened. Someone opened a door and he'd go nuts. Shell almost blew his head open – he needed to be shipped out but we were stuck because of the snow and the bombs. Then he met one of the nurses – I forget her name. We called her Adam's Apple for a long time." He laughed slightly. "The kid's name was Adam and she was the apple of his eye...you know. By the end of the month the kid was playing poker with us and spending our pay bribing orderlies for cigarettes for her."

Beth laughed.

"So of course you're getting better," Mick said, hazel eyes warm with tenderness. "And you're coming home soon. They've promised me. You've promised me."

"You know," he continued, "I love you, Beth."

"Love you," Beth said, her crooked smile lighting up her face. And she settled her mouth against his, feather-light because they both wanted so much more. He let her kiss him lightly for a few seconds, then he eased his lips apart and helped her devour him.

"Yeah," Mick said breathlessly, when they finally broke apart. " You do. Good. Because if someone else was kissing you-"

She stuck her tongue out at him sloppily. So he wiped the corners of her mouth and kissed her again.

He spent another half-hour together until the visiting bell rang.

Charis walked him out, filling him in on the details Beth couldn't comprehend. Yes, she did show signs of improvement; she should be much more mobile in a few months.

"And her brain functions?" he asked tentatively.

"I can't give you false hope", she said, gently, for the hundreth time since she'd met this couple, "the frontal lobe is badly damaged. She might not get much better, but you never know. It's best that she continues to stay here. But I'm sure Dr. Levan told you that."

Mick nodded, staring at the parquet floor, his heart in his throat.

"She's so happy when you come," Charis said. "And the flowers look beautiful in her room. You always visit just before the last bouquet dies."

"One day I won't be able to," Mick said absently, still engrossed in the floor and his own mounting rage and terror.

Charis patted his hand, wishing she could take some of the pain away. But she saw it day in and day out; they were people, just like everyone else. It was just that Beth and Mr St John seemed to be in a world of their own making, and she could understand the strain that an acquired brain injury placed on them both – Mick still loving and remembering the woman she must have been, and Beth, still aware enough to know what she had lost. Still – that love seemed to keep them going.

"I'm sure you will," she said, patting his hand again, before she left him alone.


End file.
